


In the Arms of Another

by ottopop123



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort Later, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Ezra Bridger has ADHD, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Loss of Parent(s), Panic Attacks, Parental Hera Syndulla, Parental Kanan Jarrus, Post-Episode: s02e11 Legacy, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, he's not having a good time guys, things will get better for ezra tho dont worry, this very sad be warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28298493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottopop123/pseuds/ottopop123
Summary: "It was too hard to talk about the loss of his parents with Hera, a woman who so fiercely reminded him of his own mother. A piece of him, buried deep, wanted to accept her comfort, to throw himself into the safety of her and Kanan’s arms and break down. But a larger part of him couldn’t help but fear that to be a weakness. And to rely so heavily on them, to accept their loving comfort, so reminiscent of the love he remembered from the parents who bore him, felt like a betrayal. He was scared of accepting Kanan’s fatherly comfort because it served as a reminder that he would never again receive that from Ephraim Bridger. To let Hera soothe his worries away with a tight, maternal embrace, frightened him in the sense that it was a resignation to the fact the Mira Bridger would never hold him like that."...Or, Ezra, in the immediate aftermath of discovering the truth about his parents death, struggles to adjust to his new reality. Kanan and Hera want to help, but Ezra doesn't know how to accept it.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: referenced death of parental figures, anxiety, panic attacks, avoidance of food/skipping meals, unhealthy methods of coping, referenced childhood homelessness, internalized ableism about mental health struggles, terrible perceptions of "normalcy", discrimination.
> 
> Ezra is really struggling, just be forewarned, he's dealing w some heavy shit.

The whole cabin seemed to shake with the force of Zeb’s snores, and as Ezra laid in his bunk staring at the ceiling, for the first time since joining the Ghost, he felt grateful for the noisy disruptions. When he first moved onto the Ghost and Hera made it clear that an alternative rooming situation wasn’t an option, Ezra quickly learned how to sleep through his roommates' snores. Normally, Ezra tuned it out, or if it was particularly loud, he’d bend over the side of the bunk and use his pillow to smack Zeb in hopes of getting him to roll onto his side and snore less. 

Today the snoring provided something useful for Ezra. It gave him something to try to focus his mind on, rather than all of the intrusive thoughts of his parents, Lothal, and Imperial prisons buzzing around his mind. He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled loudly. 

Ezra couldn’t fall asleep. He had been sure that after all the excitement of ‘stealing’ Leia’s ships for the Rebellion and escaping Lothal, he would fall asleep at once. But since life seemed to have a habit of wanting to prove him wrong, sleep eluded him and he had been lying awake in his bed for hours. For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Ezra rolled over and checked the time on the chrono. 

0500\. He sighed again and laid on his back again, facing the ceiling of the bunk.

Inevitably, trapped in his own mind by the constraints of the night cycle of a small spacecraft, his thoughts began to drift towards his parents and his newfound knowledge of their death. His heart ached to think that after enduring over eight years of imprisonment by the Empire, and then just as they were so close to freedom and the possibility of being a family again, they didn’t make it. He couldn’t help but imagine the prison and wonder what it had been like for them; Ryder had seemed terrified of the prospect of having to return, so the conditions must’ve been terrible. How many nights had they laid awake thinking of him? Were they even housed together in cells as spouses or were they split by gender? They were together in his vision, but Ezra didn’t really know how to gauge the accuracy of what he sees in his Force visions. Did they allow his mother to wear her headscarf? It was a culturally significant article of clothing that many Lothalian women wore as a symbol of their faith and connectedness to Lothal’s oldest religion. He doubted that the Empire cared at all about the religious customs of those they oppress, especially when the being in question is a female prisoner from the Outer Rim. He imagined that the privileged imperial officers with their Core-centric view of the universe cared very little about respecting the differing cultures and values from places they considered primitive back-water planets. 

An image appeared in his mind, the image of his mother with no head covering (something only family and close friends were allowed to see), being forced to cohabitate and mingle with other prisoners who were strangers to her. Without meaning to, he pictured her sadness and despair at the loss of this aspect of their culture, and imagined his father, quiet, but sturdy, beside her with his arm around her shoulders, his thumb rubbing the base of her neck, something he always did when she was upset - no. 

Stop. Ezra tried to eject the thought out of his mind, to cut it off - he did not want to think of these things. They were tortuous. His eyes burned and threatened to spill tears, but Ezra wouldn’t let that happen - if he started crying again he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop. Though logically he knew that no one on the crew of the Ghost would judge him for this, he dreaded having to look at the pity in their eyes. There was a certain tightness in his chest, almost like a burning sensation, and he felt as though he couldn’t quite take in a full breath.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, close to the corners of his eyes, and willed the sensation away. His breaths were getting slightly louder and wheeze-like and Ezra began to fear that they would wake Zeb below him. Stop, he said again in his mind, focus on something else. At that moment, Zeb emitted a particularly nasal snore, and Ezra tried to occupy his mind by distracting himself with the noise of the snores. The repetitive distraction, again, only did so much good, because Ezra found his thoughts drifting back to his parents. 

Okay, he thought, this isn’t working. He fidgeted and bounced his leg back and forth and tried to breathe deeper. He needed to do something tactile or physically to distract himself - a task, a chore, anything. He glanced at the chrono again, it said 0530. He could probably get up now and do something, though it was still absurdly early, if someone else was up at least it wouldn’t seem to them like he’d been up all night. It wasn’t uncommon in the Ghost that someone was up early (usually Hera, sometimes Kanan) getting an early start to the day.

Careful not to wake Zeb, Ezra climbed down from his bunk and strapped his boots on. Cautiously, he opened the door. It sounded like someone, Hera probably, was tinkering around in the kitchen. He balked at the idea of having to converse with someone, he didn’t want to have to talk to anyone and for them to inevitably act different or awkward around him. He knew the crew meant well, especially Kanan and Hera, but he couldn’t bear the thought of having to talk to them about any of this. He just wanted to forget and move on; he didn’t want to have to see the sadness in their eyes or to overwhelm them with the weight of his grief. Silently, Ezra avoided the kitchen and scaled the ladder up to the Phantom, it would be a less obvious place to hide out, and there wouldn’t really be passersby who would happen upon him.

He opened up the vented covering that protected the undercarriage of the Phantom and hopped down into it. There was plenty of manual labor and cleaning to do there. Because of the increase of missions Hera had accepted, the crew recently had less downtime to do lesser important maintenance, so there was plenty of work for Ezra to occupy himself with there. He rolled his sleeves back and started scrubbing.

******  
Wah Whup Wub. Chopper beeped to make his presence known. Ezra looked up in confusion, he wasn’t sure how long he had been there cleaning, he figured probably an hour or two. “I’m busy, Chop. I don’t have time right now,” Ezra replied, looking back at the wires he was fixing.

Chopper beeped loudly again reporting that he had missed both breakfast and now lunch and that Hera had sent him to tell Ezra to come eat. He was surprised by the amount of time that had passed, over six hours, though he had been sure it couldn't've been more than two. He sighed, and responded to Chopper, “I’ll come down soon, okay? You don’t have to wait up for me, I’ll come down in a few.” He watched as Chopper beeped softly and rolled away.

The tools in his hands began to tremble slightly, and he tried to take a deep breath and steady them. Ezra had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to talk to the other members of the Ghost at some point, but he also knew he really wasn’t ready to have a conversation about anything right now. The prospect of having to look anyone in the eye seemed incredibly daunting. Out of nowhere, he began to have the feeling of tightness in his chest again, and the skin on his face felt hot. Similar to earlier when he was lying in bed, it felt like he wasn’t breathing right. He pushed the feeling away. 

He wasn’t sure why he was panicking about having to interact with the people he lived with. He felt stupid because he loved everyone on the Ghost and he knew they loved him too, even if they didn’t say it explicitly. He just didn’t know how to act around them now. Last time he experienced this kind of loss, when his parents were taken away the first time, he was alone and there was no one around to witness his anguish because he was alone on the streets. He had been too occupied with finding a way to survive as a seven year old without a home to properly resolve his grief. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to act, and he was nervous of putting them in an awkward position.

Everything Ezra felt seemed to conflict with the other things he wanted. He wanted the crew to treat him normally, like nothing happened, but yet Ezra felt so far from normal that it seemed like any type of normalcy would never be an option again. Ezra’s world just shifted entirely, but nothing in his immediate environment had changed at all. The Ghost was still the Ghost, and everything looked the same, but he felt like he was completely different. And now, for reasons he couldn’t quite rationally explain to himself, he was terrified to encounter people he cared deeply for. His parents were never on this ship, nothing in his immediate environment had changed, but still, somehow, it felt like nothing in his life made sense to him anymore. 

Inhaling shakily, he steeled himself and prepared to go down to the kitchen. He sent a silent prayer hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone, or at least not everyone all at once. He slid down the ladder from the Phantom and reached out into the Force. He sensed Zeb and Sabine in their respective rooms, the latter working intently on a new art project. He passed by and headed for the kitchen. So far, so good, he thought, trying to calm himself. He didn’t sense Hera in the kitchen, only Kanan. He bunched his hands into fists and consciously tried to make his expression become something at ease. 

When Ezra walked in, Kanan was sitting at the table sipping a cup of caf while reading something, likely the mission report from Lothal. He looked up when Ezra entered. He met Ezra's eyes and looked at him as though studying his expression. “Hey.” He said. 

“Hi,” Ezra replied, his tone steady.

Kanan hesitated like he was considering saying something, but thought better of it. “What’ve you been up to this morning? I didn’t hear you get up.”

Ezra looked around the kitchen and slightly turned away from him, not meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I’ve been cleaning the Phantom. Did you know how dirty it was up there? The pipes and durasteel need scrubbing and some of the wiring needs to be rerouted or replaced,” He chattered nervously. He could feel, all too keenly, Kanan’s eyes tracking him across the room. 

“You must’ve been up there a while because I didn’t hear you head up there.” Kanan bent around to try to meet his eyeline, his face neutral. Too neutral. Like he was trying to assess him or consciously make it neutral. Then his expression softened into something nearing concern. “Look, Ezra...”.

“What’s for lunch?” Ezra blurted out, cutting Kanan off. He didn’t want to hear what Kanan was about to say, he knew it was gonna be something about what happened on Lothal. He wasn’t ready to address it yet, they had talked outside of Ryder’s hideout. Couldn’t that be sufficient? 

“Curry with stewed bantha meat and balma root. There’s also rice.” Kanan replied coolly. 

Ezra lifted the lid of the pot up and the aromas of the fragrant sauce wafted towards him, and his mouth watered. This was one of his favorite meals, and it also was a recipe of Hera’s that she had mentioned being in her family. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed the smell earlier, he loved this dish and the herbs weren’t cheap, so it was a bit of a rarity on the Ghost. “Wow,” he realized with a jolt, looking into the pot, “Hera must’ve gotten up early to prepare this.” It was a very tedious recipe that took several hours to make, he knew from previous experience when he had helped Hera make it a few months before. Though it was tiresome to make, the results were always amazing; it was a very delicious and comforting food. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. Without meaning to, he very obviously flinched at the unforeseen contact, and his heart skipped a beat. His cheeks burned and he looked up to see Hera had entered the kitchen and crossed the room to where he was standing at the stove.

“I didn’t mind, sweetheart. I wanted to. I know it’s one of your favorites,” Hera stated gently, smiling at him softly, her eyes kind and understanding. “Here, let me make you up a plate.” She ushered him to the table as he mumbled a thank you. Something in her tone and in her eyes was making him uneasy. Like she was regarding him with something nearing pity. A horrid voice seemed to whisper in his ear, saying that she had only made the curry because she felt bad for him, that he had inconvenience and burdened her with the task of trying to make him feel better. Bouncing his leg, Ezra kept his gaze focused on the table to avoid seeing the look in her eyes. 

He could feel the sensation from earlier returning. He felt chest start to constrict, his breaths become a bit shorter, and he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Ezra could still sense Kanan watching at him, in a way he probably thought was subtle, and continued to refuse to look at him. He didn’t want to see the hesitation on Kanan’s face because he wasn’t sure what to say to Ezra. He startled again when Hera placed the plate full of food in front of him. He stared at the plate, only able to hear and feel the beating of his heart in his burning ears. Hera promptly took a seat next to Kanan and looked across the table at Ezra expectantly. 

Shoving his panic down, Ezra forced himself to look up at the two people sitting with him at the table. They were both looking at him with cautious expressions, though both of their eyes were full of care. He knew if he hesitated to eat any longer it would seem suspicious, so with great focus on keeping his hand steady, he ate a spoonful of the curry. After he swallowed another bite, Hera opened her mouth to speak. “Ezra, love, how are you doing?” She reached across the table to grip his free hand. “Did you sleep alright last night? I heard you get up pretty early.”

Despite the fragrant spices in the curry, ones that would normally cause him to salivate and chow down on a home cooked meal, Ezra’s mouth went completely dry. It was almost as though some invisible hand was gripping his throat and preventing him from speaking properly. With great difficulty, Ezra choked out, “I just went to bed early yesterday, so I woke up earlier today.” It wasn’t completely a lie; he did go to his bunk very early the evening before. He just didn’t get any sleep there. “I slept fine,” he lied.

“Okay,” Hera conceded, but Ezra could barely hear her over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. His heart was beating out of control and he needed it to slow down. He felt a bead of sweat drip down from his hairline near his ear. He dimly registered Kanan and her exchanging a sad, but knowing glance with each other, reading each other's expression in a way that only two people who are fundamentally connected could. The two of them reminded him of his parents so profoundly it caused him physical pain. 

Ezra turned his head away from them, actively trying to control his breathing without it becoming noticeable. He turned his gaze away and tried looking around the room for something else to use as a distraction from the conversation that was undeniably about to happen. His vision was slightly blurred at the edges, and while his gaze flitted around the kitchen, it was almost as though he was seeing everything in double time, but paradoxically, the rest of the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. “Ezra.” Hera’s voice called to him again, echoing in his mind as though she was speaking to him from the end of a very long tunnel. 

His eyes snapped back to look at her. Both her and Kanan were looking at him again, but this time they didn’t attempt to disguise the concern and worry on their faces. With eyes that shined a little too much, Hera gripped his hand again and looked like she was making a conscious effort to control her emotions. Ezra immediately averted his eyes to look at his plate again. Hera’s curry, a meal he almost always craved and could normally demolish several portions of, had suddenly become so inexplicably unappetizing that he didn’t think he would be able to stomach another morsel. “Ezra,” Hera started again, glancing rapidly at Kanan, and using the hand that wasn’t holding Ezra, to grasp Kanan’s. “We just want to tell you again, how sorry we are -”.

She didn’t have a chance to finish her statement, as Ezra had abruptly stood up and interrupted her. His mind was moving too fast for him to keep up, all he knew was he wanted out of this conversation. He didn’t want to talk about his newly dead parents to the people he had so quickly replaced them with. “I - I - I need to, uh,” Ezra stammered, flustered, looking for any excuse to leave without fully running out of the room like a child. “I need to take a shower! Yeah, a, uh, shower! I feel, um, gross, from all the grease I cleaned off the Phantom.” 

Without waiting for a response, he wrenched his hand out of her grasp and made a beeline out of the kitchen to the refresher, leaving most of his meal uneaten. He vaguely registered Hera’s saddened voice calling after him and Kanan telling her to give him some space. He made it to the refresher quickly, and he turned the water on at once. The water hitting the floor of the shower was loud enough to drown out the sound of his uneven breaths as he struggled to control the rhythm of his breathing. It was as if his lungs stopped taking in the proper amount of air, and although he was panting as though he had just sprinted a long distance, his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. The tightness in his chest was getting intolerable and his skin felt too hot. His breaths were coming gasps now, and he desperately looked for a way to calm down. He grabbed his towel from the shelf, it was folded nicely, and buried his face in, shaking from the force of his wheezing. There was a knock at the door, likely Kanan who probably sensed his severe emotions. 

“I’m in the shower,” Ezra called back. There was no response.

Ezra could barely think, all he could feel was the crushing weight of his own panic. The shower was still on, he turned the dial to make it as cold as possible. He shed his clothes and stepped under the frigid spray, hoping it would cool him off enough to try to stop his episode. He let the water run over him, the coldness shocking his system, and he felt himself begin to catch his breath. A small twinge of relief ran through Ezra as the feeling of drowning on dry land faded. A few more minutes passed, and his breathing had nearly returned to normal. A light dizziness filled him, and he buried his face in his hands as a wave of shame and embarrassment washed over him. Kanan and Hera were only trying to help and make sure he was okay; Ezra felt like the strangest person in the Galaxy because he had no idea how to accept their concern like a normal person. He shut the water off and wrapped himself in his towel and sat down on the cold refresher floor.

Almost at once, he acutely felt a level of exhaustion he had never experienced before. Sitting on the refresher floor, he fought back tears. It was too hard to talk about the loss of his parents with Hera, a woman who so fiercely reminded him of his own mother. A piece of him, buried deep, wanted to accept her comfort, to throw himself into the safety of her and Kanan’s arms and break down. But a larger part of him couldn’t help but fear that to be a weakness. And to rely so heavily on them, to accept their loving comfort, so reminiscent of the love he remembered from the parents who bore him, felt like a betrayal. He was scared of accepting Kanan’s fatherly comfort because it served as a reminder that he would never again receive that from Ephraim Bridger. To let Hera soothe his worries away with a tight, maternal embrace, frightened him in the sense that it was a resignation to the fact the Mira Bridger would never hold him like that. 

He steadied himself, and stood up. He was completely dry now. He redressed into his flight suit and prepared to leave the refresher. He extended his senses to the hallway, and found it to be free of people. Ezra hurried back to his and Zeb’s cabin. Thankfully, the lasat was elsewhere and Ezra climbed into his bunk. He thought about going back to the Phantom and continuing his maintenance, but the tiredness he felt was consuming. The moment his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan and Hera try to figure out the best way to help Ezra, but disagree on methodology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically 1.6K words of Kanan and Hera being worried space parents.

Kanan’s heart clenched as he watched Ezra launch himself out of his seat and run from the room. Kanan cringed internally at the outcome of the conversation that barely even took place. It was almost as if he was watching a speeder wreck happen; he couldn’t seem to look away. Ezra being one speeder and the other speeder being reality. Next to him, Hera started up like she was going to follow him out of the kitchen. “Ezra, please,” she called after him. 

Kanan placed a hand on her elbow to stop her from leaving. “Let him be. I’m not sure pushing it just yet will do any good,” He reasoned.

Hera whirled around to face him, eyes narrowed. “So you think we should just leave him to deal with this on his own?” She asked accusingly. 

“No, I never said that, Hera. I think we need to be receptive to what he shows us. He’s very clearly not ready to even talk about the situation. In the past, though this is not quite the same, when he’s gone through tough days - like Empire day - he shuts off until he’s in a situation where really can’t anymore.” Kanan mused. “He’s going to have to deal with this - it’s inevitable. You know how grief works; it comes in waves. He’s going to be grappling this for months, for years even. We’ll be there for him when he needs us - and he will be okay. But right now, I think what he’s trying to tell us is that he needs is space.” 

“Kanan, he is a child of whom we are responsible.” She stated, her voice shaking, “A child who just suffered a horrific, life-altering loss of his parents. Not to mention after having just begun to hope again that they might _still_ be alive. Kanan, our child needs our help; he needs us, Kanan he needs us right now.” Her eyes shown with what Kanan could only label as Hera’s unique brand of loving conviction. She cared so deeply for Ezra, the lonely child they had taken in together, the child loved together and had begun to raise together. Her protectiveness over Ezra was a quality in her that constantly made Kanan fall in love with her over and over again.

“Yes, I agree, and I’m not saying we leave him alone to deal with this - you know I would never say that, Hera. I’m saying it's possible we need to be more responsive to what he wants. He knows we’re here for him. Right now, I think he just wanted to not talk about it. For right now, I think we need to be present, but not hovering.”

“Okay, but there is a very real difference between want versus need.” Hera contested.

“Yes, I am aware. But, I think it’s important to remember that Ezra has had very little control over many things in his life. Right now, he is clinging to that autonomy, and it’s important we respect it. He very clearly just let us know that he needs space, and we should respect that, while at the same time still being available for when he’s ready.”

“Okay, I understand where you’re coming from, but I also think reminding him we’re here for him isn’t threatening his control of the situation. I agree, I think how I went about it at lunch was too much, too soon, but please, Kanan,” she pleaded, “for my sanity’s sake, just knock on the door and ask him if he needs anything. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

Kanan nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed. “I’ll knock, ask if he needs anything, but I’m not going to push just yet.” He was very well aware that Ezra would either not respond or tell him to go away, but partnerships are about compromise. He did as she asked and knocked on the ‘fresher door, only to receive a short, dismissive response from Ezra just as he had predicted. 

Kanan sensed Hera had moved to the cockpit - where she always went went she was upset or worried - and began to head to join her. He hoped he wasn’t coming across to Hera as uncaring or disinterested in helping Ezra. It wasn’t that he was avoiding the emotional conversation that was going to happen, he just wanted it to happen naturally.

He reached the cockpit and took his place in the co-pilot’s seat next to Hera. She reached for his hand again. She squeezed his hand and he reciprocated the same pressure while studying her expression. They were silent for several minutes, basking in the comfort of each other’s presence until Kanan broke the silence. “He’s going to be okay, Hera. He has us, and Zeb and Sabine. We’re here for him, but he’s going to have to let us help him.”

“I know, _I know_ ,” she repeated, “It’s just hard to watch him struggle and not be able to do anything about it. I just want to hold him and tell him everything's going to be okay. I would give anything for him to not be in this pain right now.” Her voice cracked at the confession and Kanan squeezed her hand tighter.

“I know you would. I feel the same way. Something about our presence triggered him in that moment at lunch. You don’t need the force to know that, I could tell just from his body language. The right move was to give him space to try to center himself.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. He couldn’t figure out how to put what he was feeling about the situation, it was something he just knew. “Right now, from what I can tell, he’s closed himself off. From us, from our bond, from the Force. This is how we’ve seen Ezra deal with the tough stuff in the past - remember the first Empire day he was onboard? His guard was up so high, but it did eventually come down, and it allowed us to become closer as a result. Right now I’m seeing some parallels to that day; for whatever reason he’s convinced himself he needs to have his guard up in front of us.”

Hera cut into his musings and said,“I’ve thought about that and I think it's because that’s how he taught himself to react to trauma from a young age. To close himself off from it, it wasn’t just how he protected himself from it, but also how he was able to survive. It’s a stress response. I just think he’s going to realize it’s different this time because he’s not going to need to divert his mind for survival. He has a safe space now, which is the biggest difference from when he lost his parents the first time around. He been through a lot, but I don’t know if, before, he ever stopped, or had the chance to stop, to truly process his traumas properly. Now he does have the chance and he’s not equipped to process this himself Kanan.”

“There’s a lot of truth in that statement and I agree with what you’re saying. Now, our job becomes providing the safe environment from him to grieve this trauma. If I know Ezra - which I do, and you do too - I can plausibly predict from our previous experiences with him the possible scenarios that are likely to happen. One of two things is likely to happen, if his previous responses to traumatic situations are an indicator any sort of pattern. There will come a point where he, one, either realizes that he can confide in us and seek us out willingly, to let us help him mourn, or, two, it will become obvious that he cannot ask for help himself and will reach a point where his efforts to keep himself together won’t be enough anymore. That’s where we, as adults who care about him, will have to intervene and help him.” He exhaled slowly - it was a very heavy conversation to have. “In my opinion, scenario two seems to be the more likely one, agreed?” He glanced over at her - she was staring out the viewport deep in thought until she suddenly turned to him.

“Yes, love, I agree, but what I don’t understand is why you don’t want to sit him down before he reaches this so-called ‘breaking point’? Aren’t we supposed to protect him from that?”

“In most situations I would agree with you there, but Ezra’s guard is up so high right now that he’s really the only one who can bring it down. Either he lowers it himself or it’s going to break. At the same time in this situation, he is pushing us away. We’re two parental figures in his life, I know we don’t say it explicitly, but there is no denying that - he cannot deny that. That in mind, we can imagine he possibly feels conflicted about that, especially while mourning his parents. That’s why I feel it’s best to give him space, until he gives us the cues of what he needs.” He finally met her eyeline and continued on saying, “That means we keep a close eye on him, but we can’t hover.”

“Okay,” Hera whispered in response. “On a related note, I talked to Commander Sato and asked to be off assignment for the next week or two. I told him we could possibly still do a milk run or two, but it would be a last minute choice.”

“I think a milk run could potentially be good for him too, not right now, but maybe in a week or so.” Hera sent the ghost of a smile back at him, before he attention was diverted to the Ghost’s internal security cameras. They watched as Ezra headed back to his cabin. “I hope he sleeps a bit,” Hera added, “earlier he looked like he barely slept at all.”

“Agreed. Alright,” he groaned as he stood up, stretching before starting to walk towards his cabin. “I’m going to go meditate. Come find me when it’s time for dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this chapter to show the conflict on Kanan and Hera's side, specifically how they both don't necessarily know the best way to help him. I think it's an interesting discourse, neither one is necessarily 100% right and that's ok.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all liked this very dialogue heavy chapter. Next chapter will finally have the comfort part of hurt/comfort. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you'd like (they definitely motivate me to update), my tumblr is @followtheowls if you feel like giving it a follow :) my goal is to start becoming more active on it

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written/published a fic before, so pls be kind. I am very nervous about this lol


End file.
